Ron's Wedding
by MykEsprit
Summary: Percy had always hated her; she knew it. Out of all the Weasleys, he was the only one who never treated her like another sibling. Written for Hermione's Personal Library.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.**

 **A/N: Written for Hermione's Personal Library, hosted by Hermione's Haven.**

 **Many thanks to my lovely beta Lucefray27, as well as to starrnobella for moderating this event!**

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 **Ron's Wedding**

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"Fuck-fuck-bloody- _fuck_ ," Ron muttered as he paced the large dressing room.

Hermione shot Harry a pointed look, which he returned with an expression of wide-eyed bewilderment. She nudged her head toward the door; Harry threw his arms up in confusion.

"Ron," she said in a placating tone while rolling her eyes at Harry, "why don't you and Harry have a look at the gardens? The roses here are extraordinary. You won't have time to appreciate them later."

Ron paused his nervous strides, his glazed eyes briefly focusing on her. "All right," he said, heaving a protracted sigh. "I could use the fresh air."

She made her way over to her redheaded best friend, biting back a smile as she surveyed him: eyebrows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and a slight twitch of the right corner of his lips.

In their fifteen years of friendship, she had never seen Ron this frayed and flustered. Then again, she supposed he was allowed to be nervous today.

"Go take a jaunt around the gardens—release some of that energy." She reached to straighten the lapels of his dress robe. "Then, you should go greet your guests. I'm sure they're all excited for the ceremony to start."

He nodded, though the dent between his eyebrows deepened further. "I should check to make sure everything's all right out there. At the rehearsal dinner, Luna's cousin mentioned setting up traps for knarls—something about them being attracted to the daisies in the bouquets. I'd hate to fall into a knarl trap in the middle of my 'I do's.'"

"That sounds like a good idea." She gave his shoulders a brief squeeze before ushering him and Harry out the door.

When they were gone, she stepped up to the full-length mirror. Her hands went up to the bowtie at her collar. As one of Ron's groomspersons, she wore a black formal robe identical to the four men standing up with him at the altar. She grinned as she played with her tie.

A slight movement in the reflection caught her eye. She had been left alone with one other groomsperson, as George had left an hour ago to see to his pregnant wife.

Percy sat in an armchair facing into the room, but he kept his head turned to the side as he gazed out the window. His back was ramrod straight, elbows digging into the armrests and fingers curled around both ends in a tense grip.

Hermione released a quiet sigh as she kept her eyes on his reflection. Percy had always hated her; she knew it. Out of all the Weasleys, he was the only one who never treated her like another sibling.

She became a frequent house guest at Shell Cottage. Charlie often invited her to the dragon reserve in Romania. George kept her supplied in the newest Wheezes products—much to her chagrin. She had a reserved seat in the Harpies team box for all of Ginny's games, despite being unable to attend most due to work. Even Ron, after their short-lived dalliance, went out of his way to have lunch with her every day, a tradition that continued well after he left his job at the Ministry.

Percy, on the other hand, never so much as engaged her in conversation during Sunday dinners at the Burrow, nor sat next to her at various family events. He never even acknowledged her presence whenever she came into the room.

There was a twinge in the center of her chest, one she attributed to irritation at being ignored—for anything else would be confusing. Unwarranted.

Unwanted—at least, by the other party involved.

She yanked at the bowtie, suddenly feeling it too tight around her neck.

She tried to remember how Harry had done up her tie, grabbing the two ends of the cloth, crossing one over the other. After a few minutes of struggling, the bowtie had devolved into a bundle of knots. She growled in frustration.

A large hand planted on her shoulder and gently turned her around. Long fingers reached for her collar, undoing the mess she made, then expertly looping the ends into a neat bow.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you, Percy," she said, her tone wavering. Perhaps it was Karma for being amused at Ron's earlier display of nerves.

His hands lingered at the bow, the pads of his square thumbs stroking its wings as he gave her a curt nod. When he lowered his hands from her collar, she grabbed his wrists. The muscles under her fingers tensed.

"Percy," she murmured. His eyes were lowered at the bowtie at her neck. She ducked her head trying to catch his eye. "Percy," she tried again. "I don't know what it is that I've done to make you hate me."

He blew out a sharp breath through his nostrils. "I don't hate you," he said tersely.

She scoffed.

Percy shook his head. "It's not like that."

"You can't even stand the sight of me," she whispered bitterly. She released his wrists, practically throwing them away from her, as she tried to step away. His close presence inundated her.

He grabbed her forearms, holding her in place. "Hermione," he said, his voice deep and filled with—Hermione's heart stuttered— _longing_.

Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes were clear and blue like a deep lagoon—and it was like drowning in the sea and shooting up in the sky at terminal speed at the same time. For, in his eyes, there were years of unspoken sentiments, "I love yous" never murmured in her ears, caresses that never warmed her cheeks, kisses that never lingered on her lips.

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs in a quiet, "Oh." Then a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

His eyes lit up with hope.

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!**


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